


Zelgan Week 2016 Prompts

by NidoranDuran



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-01 18:04:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6530389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NidoranDuran/pseuds/NidoranDuran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of short pieces for each of the prompts of tumblr's 2016 Zelgan Week. Some will be smutty, but not all of them. Pieces sorta commissioned by missvulpix212.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Clouded Jewelry

Scratched and clouded over as time, sand, and sun wore down the precious gems, Ganondorf was surprised to find the jewelry in the same place where they had fallen. At least, it felt like the same place; echoes of buildings once standing in what was now ruins sand dunes stretching out for miles. The king stood in what was once a crown jewel of the Gerudo empire, many lifetimes and many ages ago, but which now lay in disrepair, buildings eroded by sand and the powerful winds that carried them to wash away the past, leaving only one record of its existence and its glory intact; the memory of a king in a cycle of wicked fate, doomed forever to repeat it.

He reached down to pick up the jewelry, even though he knew it was a mistake to. Memories came more vividly for the desert king than they did for the other two Triforce bearers, but they came strongest for him when he intentionally retraced the steps of old lifetimes or touched old belongings, and this time was no different. He held the gorgeous and bejeweled necklace in his hand, and immediately, a lifetime's regret and torment returned to him in all too vivid detail.

It was one of his happiest lives, one where his mortal enemy was his adopted brother and who he had never been happier with. For so long, he had not awakened, not realized his dark heritage or what awaited him, and even when he did realize what happened, he fought against it. He was born to be king, and he would be a good one. A just one. One who did not let power rule him. The gods and their games would not effect him this time, and with any luck neither he nor Link would ever meet Zelda. They could simply remain brothers, riding horses and having archery contests. Just because he was the embodiment of Demise in human form didn't mean he had to embrace it or follow in those wicked footsteps.

But then the princess came. Zelda. Radiant, with a smile he fell in love with, and a kindness that he could hardly believe. There with her father for a diplomatic mission, she seemed wise beyond her years, as he would have expected, but even better than that was the pride to her. She bore herself like true royalty, but never tempered her softness, her elegance. She was beauty in motion, and what had initially started uncertain as the two heirs to thrones of kingdoms barely holding themselves from the brink of war became the kind of romance that only galvanized his desire for something different than what fate had in mind for them.

She looked almost ethereally beautiful by moonlight, as he held her close and they savoured everything about the other. They could change the world, change the fates of their kingdoms, unite two peoples torn apart by tensions and the threat of war. Their love could save lives, and for all of her wisdom, Zelda was perhaps more of a fool than she should have been, easily blinded by that hope. But so was Ganondorf. A destiny of reincarnation and war could come to an end. Or at least simply not pass this once. Just this once. Nobody had to learn prophecies or old legends, had to face their fated roles which pitted him suddenly as the wicked villain. He didn't seek power or ruination.

He sought love. And he'd found it.

They seemed alone in those hopes, as attempts at diplomacy only became more sour, and it was in those brief moments that regret ached the hardest for Ganondorf, as he stood in the sands, the wind whistling all around him as he remembered how he had undone his own hopes. How his desperation for the life he was fated not to have became his greatest failing. Anger swelled as the royal lovers were pried apart, as the necklace passed down from his grandmother to him was torn from Zelda's neck by her furious father and tossed into the very sands he stood on. Red hot fury bubbled within the prince, whose magic came swift and mercilessly.

He stood at the site of the death of the King of Hyrule. Or at least, one king, forgotten by history. Closer to a millennium ago than to a generation. He'd struck down the only obstacle keeping them apart, keeping him from having the life he sought, and it was only as he saw the crystalline tears bubbling in her blue eyes that his seething red subsided and he realized what he had just done. That he had doomed the best chance he'd ever had at a life without the game of fate and bloodshed that he had been trying to avoid. Shunned by a tearful and heartbroken Zelda, then in turn by his brother. His reality had been challenged, his anger at the fate that he seemed almost doomed to repeat ensuring that he raged against the heavens just as he was supposed to, feeling that he'd been robbed of happiness, that his destiny was to be tormented again and again. If the heavens wanted a monster, then a monster he would be.

It wasn't in all lifetimes that he came to love Princess Zelda, but he savoured each one where he did. Which brought him to this lifetime again, returning to reality, perhaps a little foolish as he held onto the necklace. Weathered and cloudy, it was hardly a gift worth presenting to a princess, but his fingers already ran along it, thrumming with magic and cleaning away the centuries of ruin from it. The memories it brought back of the agonizing left spent almost feeling happiness within his clutches had been a brutal one, and even then he doubted himself for a moment, wondering if it had been his own weakness that undid him or if the goddesses were truly guiding him down the path of darkness again and again to keep their morality play of good and evil on track. Wondering if it mattered either way when the end result was always the same.

In this life, Ganondorf was a desert prince, one of many suitors seeking the heart of the only daughter of the king of Hyrule, but the only one who she had felt herself truly connected to. And for as awful as the memories that he held in his hand were, he would try again. He would never stop trying, and he would present her the gift once more, the restored and cleaned gems carrying meaning that he could never fully explain to her. Was it folly? Probably.

But wisdom was not his aspect.


	2. The Hunt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut time. Content warnings for handcuffs, rough sex, and impregnation.

Zelda enjoyed the chase. She knew her impatient, red-maned king rarely did, lacking the patience for the long game they played, but the hunt had become a part of their dance. Throughout time, all those lives spent with him in pursuit of the princess proved so much more fun than the ones where she remained some spire-bound damsel. Lives where her magical power was at its most potent, where she bore the disguise of Sheik. Sometimes, she had tutors who instructed her on the arts of stealth and subterfuge, disguising herself and moving about in the shadows, but she didn't always need them. Her recollection of the past was not as strong as Ganondorf's, but what she did recall was often more instinctual, driven by knowledge rather than a raw event. It allowed her to push her magic to more accomplished levels with each lifetime, and to recall the pure reflex of her days as Sheik in that first life many, many ages ago.

But deft as she was, he always caught her. It seemed just another element of their destiny; just as certain as he would pursue her, he would come to ensnare her eventually. Which made it all the more frustrating in this life, where Zelda had decided that she adored the hunt so well that she didn't just want it once, she wanted it again and again. Extra agile and clever in this life, she could escape him again and again, once more taking up disguises and fleeing into the countryside, into villages, ready to hide out from him and his forces until the bitter end. She knew he'd find him, knew their game would not last long before she was within his clutches again, but the return was just as much fun as the chase itself.

//"These are the rules," she'd told him, sitting in his lap, her lips pressed to his ear and her body grinding against his, their clothes on but their needy flesh aching; the tease was wicked and it was mutual in a way meant to drive him mad, with her own insanity merely an unfortunate side-effect. "At the one week mark, you will let me go. I'll have half a day's advantage on you or your men. Then, you come looking for me, and you don't stop until you've found me."

"You assume you're worth more than the trouble of this foolish game," Ganondorf replied, even if his words were undercut by the run of his fingers through her long brown hair and the way he inhaled the sweet scent of her perfume.

"Go a night without me, and see how long it takes for your thoughts to turn right back to me," she taunted in return, voice dipping into a whisper so ragged that she could feel his chest tighten. "Now, as I was saying. No innocents may be harmed, and you pay for any damage in the ensuing fight. You may use everything at your disposal, but I do request you keep the royal guards away from this. Those still loyal to my father will complicate things on the belief I don't wish to return to you, but I don't want to harm those who will follow their orders."

"And what do I get for entertaining you and this distraction and misuse of my forces?"

"The night you capture me will be a night where you may do to me everything you wish." Her lips curled into a wicked smile as she watched her leonine lover resist every sound trying to claw its way up from his throat.//

Ganondorf's dark forces were like hunting dogs, deployed in a wild chase for the princess as he scoured his lands, always surprised by the corners she ended up in. Sometimes, he would spend an entire day searching for her, only to find her cleverly holed up a mere block from the castle by the end of it. Other times, long rooftop chases across Castle Town or even barns far outside of Kakariko were the flavour of the week. It didn't matter, he always found her, often breathless and in a new disguise, daggers sank into the bodies of bokoblins scattered in piles all around. On more than one occasion, even a Moblin pierced through the heart by a light arrow that held it upright against a wall behind it. But it didn't matter; he always found her, and he always brought her back.

But the one thing they could agree on was that even more fun than the chase was what followed.

Handcuffs kept both of Zelda's wrists spread and bound to the headboard as the very same patience that left him unable to appreciate the chase ensured that his revenge was all the more brutal. The bed shook beneath the weight of Ganondorf's savage thrusts downward into his runaway princess, whose stubborn insistence of wanting to play hunter and prey had driven him mad with three nights of an empty bed and something to prove. Something he took out on the poor princess as his cock hammered down into her, his eyes wide and fiery as he stared down at her, watching her body shake and her lips tremble. "This is what you get for playing these silly games."

"You act like this is punishment for me," she said, breath ragged and heavy as he moved atop her with a mighty and savage pace. He fucked her with the very frustration she sought to cultivate within him, the fire and the hunger that complacency and 'victory 'often began to dull. She knew the best way to keep him at his best was to challenge him. Wisdom benefited from patience and time to examine, but power thrived under pressure and desire; if he had everything he wanted, the passion dulled. But when he was fucking his fury out on her, all of that power shone through, all of that brutality made itself so intensely present that all she could do was howl. It was fortunate her wrists were bound, because she did not stay still or silent, and she didn't know where her hands would likely go if she could move them.

"Well then I'll just have to make it a punishment," Ganondorf snarled, never more bestial than when his eyes were aflame and he was lying atop her, furious and driven by his needs, neglected solely to drive him mad. He knew she was toying with him, but he didn't care as he felt the slick, tight embrace of her pussy around him, her body writhing as he slammed madly down into her from below. The aspect of power was more than just physical strength, it was intensity. Everything was powerful for him emotionally as well; when he felt, he felt powerfully. Anger became rage, self-satisfaction became haughtiness, and most importantly of all, want became need.

Zelda's head pushed back into the pillows beneath her head as her lips curled into a shivering smile. "I'd like to see you tr--" Her playful banter was cut off by a hand in her hair tugging her head sharply back, followed almost immediately by teeth sinking into her neck, wrenching a cry of bliss from her lips. His brutality was elation in its purest form for the princess. Being chased like prey was a thrill, but so was being pinned down and fucked like an animal by the man her tease was meant to drive mad. She had him wrapped around her finger in a cerebral sense, but physically, her body belonged to him, and he took gleeful lengths to relish in everything he could do to her.

Maybe it was because of the time they spent apart and their bodies' desperation, which only swelled once they were reunited and the other's familiar touch ignited their neglected hungers, but their first rounds once the hunt had come to an end was always the hardest. Their bodies shuddered in unison, Zelda's searing cries of orgasmic pleasure kicking in sooner but quickly overwhelmed by Ganondorf's harsh, leonine growl as he slammed down into her, pinning her whole body down to the bed, large and heavy enough to quell even her intense thrashing as his cock erupted within her, pumping the howling princess full of cum as their bodies burned in unison.

Ganondorf hadn't even stopped shivering when he sat up, still buried inside of the princess. "You're mine," he snarled, in contrast to the calloused fingers running almost affectionately down Zelda's body, along the tops of her breasts and down her stomach to her pelvis, rubbing right over a space where here womb out to have been. "And tonight, I'm going to make sure that you won't run from me anymore."

Zelda bit her lip as he spoke, closing her eyes and realizing his intention to breed her on that night, to ensure she was pregnant and unable to keep the chase going. It wasn't every lifetime they had children, but she always welcomed it, even if it meant giving up their game.

There was always the next lifetime for that.


	3. Undeath

Ganondorf was surrounded by those beyond death. The fearsome Stalfos were soldiers risen from the grave and fueled and by his wicked sorcerery. The wicked Poes, lingering spirits driven to mad, vengeful trickery, were easily brought under his arcane control and guided toward his bidding, even if he had not raised them himself. Monstrous foes that his terrible necromancy brought back again and again to menace those who opposed him, their remains waiting only for the arcane spark of his power to bring them back to something not quite life. Raising an army was hard, but with the Triforce of Power to ensure his magic was nearly endless, 'raising' an army was always efficient.

But Ganondorf himself lived beyond death in a manner far beyond any of his servants. Trapped in a cycle of endless rebirth, he was the manifestation of Demise's hatred itself given physical form, someone never truly born from a seed of life to begin with, but from the twisted fury of a dead god. Though Link and Zelda were trapped in a similar cycle, both were properly alive, even Zelda herself merely a descendant of the original avatar of the goddess rather than the avatar reborn. They did not live life to life with the same crushing memories of old lives in vivid and constant, almost unwelcome, detail. They had never been sealed in the Sacred Realm, granted an eternal life at the expense of anything that one could truly call life in the first place. Not like he had.

Many had resurrected him, brought him back from death seemingly outside of the cycle, seeking to help him inflict his destructive powers again. But each time, there had been a Link, there had been a Zelda. He had not been revived outside of their fateful dance, but within it, his rebirth not needed to bring about their destinies. It did little to help reassure him of how alive he truly was. If he didn't need to be born to even truly kick start another cycle of rebirth, then how could he say that he was ever alive when he did? Death troubled him for that very reason, immortality something he sought, proof that he was alive and the means by which he could live forever. To not be a wraith, to not be slain outright and to simply cease existing for another century or eight. It was agony to be without those answers, without that certainty. Just the embodiment of wickedness, power, and the hatred of a long dead demon king lingering on the verge of existence until his time came to once more play the villain in some fated morality play ordained by the goddess eons ago.

But then there was Zelda. Very much alive, always born rather than resurrected, heir to divine power but not conceived by it. She was her own being, truly alive, each cycle bringing a new and distinct Zelda with her. She changed with each lifetime, vibrant and interesting and never the same person twice in a row. It made her fascinating and it made her real, further anchoring Ganondorf to his worries of death and how monstrous he truly was, even standing as a distinctly non-piglike Gerudo man. He feared what he truly was and how his physical form lingered, how malleable his fate was, and his beloved princess reminded him more and more of those fears.

But by that same token, there was no reminder that he was alive, no reason to believe he was there and real and vibrant, than when she pressed her lips against his and his entire being ached with the joy of life.


	4. Sweet Talk

Sweet talk wasn't when Zelda met Ganondorf in the castle garden wearing her flowing, luxurious dress and engaging in her secret liaison with the foreign king, and told him, "I don't care what my father says. You're the one I want," in response to the many suitors lined up for the Hylian princess. Her father had so many deals in the works, so many ideas of who she should have married, never a matter of love or what she wanted, but of which prince--if she was so lucky that the suggested man was not bloated, gray-haired , thrice her age and likely to die soon--promised the most gains for him. And valuable as relationships with the Gerudo people were, nothing Ganondorf could have possibly offered her was worth his acceptance, not that the desert king would ever think so low of the princess as to offer material goods for her.

Ganondorf held her tightly against him. "I know," he said lowly. In this life, things went well. In this life, she saw their history as a tragic one, and the romance and mystique of that pulled her in, made the handsome red-haired king even more alluring and intriguing to her than he would have been, and he had caught her eye long before she understood the mysterious dreams that followed. "But he won't listen to me; he demands something in exchange for your hand b--"

"I am not to be bartered and traded off," Zelda said, almost venomous in her dissatisfaction with her father's ideals. "Don't you dare make him an offer for me, even if he asks for one. If I must, I'll simply run away with you. He'll never gain anything for my hand." Zelda was fierce in most lives, but in few was she as insistent as she was in this one. There was a fire within her, untamable and burning bright. "I will marry on my own terms, and it will be for love, not a single exchange in sight."

"I would sooner help you kill him than let you lose your royal status, or risk war." Ganondorf wasn't used to being the calmer one of the two of them, but Zelda's passions were greater than ever, but he tried to soothe her fury as best he could, shock her back into sanity and into the realization that foolishness would do nothing for them. It was a role he'd never played before.

But Zelda looked at her secret lover with stone-faced seriousness, which added a chilling edge to when she said, "I would drive the blade in myself." Power was the aspect that most frequently got into trouble, but Ganondorf had understood through the ages that even more fearsome than his own aspect was Wisdom, whose bearer was cutthroat enough to know what had to be done, and who was sometimes willing to do whatever it took to seize what she wanted. "In an hour, be at my room. My guard is due to change, and Impa knows to let you in. She's the only one in this damned castle who's loyal to me rather than my father."

Sweet talk wasn't when Zelda sat atop Ganondorf, her hands gripping his wrists as though she could actually keep him pinned down to the bed, her entire body aflame as she cried out, "I need you!" as she rode him. Everything about Zelda was a brilliant, heated mess of delight as she fit oddly atop the large, strong king, looking almost out of place in a position of anything approaching a position of dominance or power over the mighty Gerudo, but he surrendered it to her gladly. Despite the fact she claimed to need him, the writhing of her body, the graceful sway of her hips as she rode his cock, to say nothing of the tight embrace of the hot, slick embrace of her folds around him, left Ganondorf feeling like he was the real needy one in that bed. She looked so beautiful as she moved atop him, not that he had yet to lay eyes on her for a single moment and think that she was anything else. 

His hands settled upon her hips, large enough that as his fingers reached to hold onto her, they pressed against her ass, guiding her motions as his own body rocked upward. He was like a caged beast, if the cage was his one of his own making; he didn't hold back his strength, letting it help carry their lovemaking as his hips thrust powerfully upward into her, but simply didn't seize control of the situation. He surrendered eagerly to her in a declaration of his love more powerful than she seemed fully aware of. All three of them embodied their aspects, and power was not simply something he possessed, it was something he craved, something he lived. His entire campaign across eons, of change to sometimes destructive levels as he raged against the heavens and a long departed goddess, was one of trying to reclaim power in a world that had been designed to take it from him. To voluntarily give up power, even in a situation where the only meaning was intimacy, was a bold statement; he loved Zelda even more than he loved to be in control.

Sweet talk wasn't even when Zelda screamed her mad cry of delight, almost devoid of a sensible word in any tongue to ever exist as her body shuddered, burning in brilliant white flame as she held onto him, her hands gripping him as hard as they could and her needy inner walls clenching down in desperation. She wore her need with a passion too great to resist, and he fulfilled their mutual hungers as he came alongside her, groaning and filling the princess to her hearts' content, uncaring about the consequences of his actions as he simply embraced and lived his desires. He'd spent too long fighting them now to hold back.

No, sweet talk was in the breathless, shuddering afterglow that followed, when her head lay against his chest, both of them stripped bare emotionally, and the princess didn't hold back anything, confirming every word she had ever said to him when she let out a low, soft whisper of, "I would give up everything for you."


End file.
